What It’s Like to Cancel Plans Because of Panic Attacks

Ah, the sweet sound of the “cancel button.” It’s a sound that has often been music to my ears, especially when I’ve had one too many panic attacks, and a social event is on the horizon. We’ve all been there—plans made, invitations sent, excitement bubbling up… but then that all-too-familiar feeling starts creeping in. You know the one: the tight chest, the racing heart, the spiral of thoughts that can only end in one conclusion: “I can’t do this. I have to cancel.”

And so, the text is sent, the call is made, and suddenly, you’re the one who’s flaked out. Again. Not because you don’t want to see your friends or loved ones, but because your body and mind have decided that socializing is an Olympic sport, and you forgot your training.

I’ve had my fair share of these moments. Canceling plans because of a panic attack is something I know all too well. It’s one of those things that’s a mix of relief and guilt—relief because I don’t have to face the anxiety right now, but guilt because I really wanted to show up. But it’s like I’m caught in a vicious cycle, and at some point, it starts to feel like I’m trapped in a loop of disappointment.

Let’s talk about it. Because, frankly, canceling plans and dealing with the aftermath is something that doesn’t get discussed enough. And if you’re someone who has been there, I’m right there with you, struggling to figure out how to make peace with it all.

The Build-Up: When Everything Feels Like Too Much

Okay, first of all, let me just say that social events sound so good on paper. The invitation comes in, and it’s like this tiny burst of joy. “Oh my god, yes! I’m going to see everyone, hang out, laugh, eat snacks—this will be amazing!” I start picturing myself in the scenario: everyone’s laughing, I’m saying something hilarious, and we’re all having a great time.

But then the countdown begins. The event is a day away, then a few hours away, and then, suddenly, I’m spiraling. I start thinking, “What if I say something weird? What if I’m the only one who doesn’t get the joke? What if I have a panic attack in front of everyone?” Those “What ifs” multiply faster than rabbits, and they don’t stop until I’m fully convinced that this gathering will either be a disaster or a total disaster.

The physical symptoms of anxiety are no joke. I get that tightness in my chest, my stomach turns into a hot mess of knots, and I start to feel like I’m trapped inside a tiny, uncomfortable box. The world outside seems distant, and it’s just me, the anxiety, and the panic taking over. That’s when it happens—the text goes out, and I’m a ghost.

The Text: A Modern-Day Lifeline (Or My Biggest Regret)

You know the one. The text that’s just a few words but carries a whole lot of weight:

“Hey, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling well. Can we reschedule?”

Or the even more dreaded:

“I’m so sorry, I can’t make it tonight.”

Short, sweet, and laced with guilt.

Now, I’m not saying I don’t want to be honest, but there’s something about sending that message that feels like a punch to the gut. The guilt is immediate. My brain goes, “You should have gone. It’s just a party. It’s just dinner. Why can’t you just push through like everyone else?” The guilt is a cruel companion because, deep down, I want to be there. But my body and mind have conspired against me, and there’s no way I can push past the panic. Not today.

And then I wait for the response. If it’s understanding, I feel a tiny bit of relief. But if the person seems disappointed or doesn’t get it, well, I’m a mess. The spiral continues, and now I’m replaying the whole scenario, wondering if I’ve somehow become that person—the flake, the unreliable one, the one who cancels at the last minute. The worst part? The fear that people are starting to notice the pattern and that it’s no longer just a one-off thing. “Why is she always canceling? What’s wrong with her?” The thought alone is enough to make me spiral again.

The Cycle: Why It Happens (And Why It Keeps Happening)

I’m not proud of the fact that I’ve become somewhat of an expert in canceling plans. At this point, I’m pretty sure I’ve come up with a thousand creative excuses. (“I’m really tired, actually. Like, too tired to function. My dog ate my plans… wait, no, that’s not right.”)

But in all seriousness, this cycle of cancellation isn’t just about being flaky. It’s about survival. It’s about trying to protect myself from the overwhelming weight of a panic attack in a social situation. It’s about trying to safeguard my mental health, even if it means disappointing people. But after a while, the guilt catches up, and it starts to feel like I’m failing not only myself but everyone around me. And that’s when I started to realize that something needed to change.

The Hardest Part: Learning to Show Up Anyway (Even When It’s Scary)

So here’s where I’m at now: Trying to stop the cycle. It’s not easy, but I’m trying to push myself to show up more. Even when panic strikes. Even when my mind screams at me to run. Because here’s the thing: I do want to be there for my friends, for my family, for myself. But I also want to take care of my mental health and not put myself in situations that feel like too much.

It’s a balance, a dance between honoring my anxiety and honoring my need for connection. I’m trying to get better at assessing when my anxiety is just being “anxious” (which is, you know, normal), and when it’s actually a legitimate sign that I need to take a step back. That’s a work in progress. But I’ve learned to give myself permission to not cancel every time, even if it feels like the anxiety monster is about to swallow me whole.

The trick, for me, has been taking baby steps. I don’t always commit to the entire event. Sometimes, it’s just about showing up for 10 minutes and then deciding if I can stay longer. Sometimes, I bring a friend or find a way to feel safe in the environment. And honestly, some days are better than others. There are still moments when I bail last minute, but I’m learning to accept it and be gentle with myself. It’s a process.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel: Getting Better (One Step at a Time)

It’s been a journey. A long one. But I’m learning that I don’t have to let panic control my every decision. I don’t have to be perfect at socializing. I can show up when I can, and when I can’t, I can be honest about it without drowning in guilt.

The more I practice showing up, the easier it becomes. And the more I let myself be human, the more I realize that nobody is expecting me to be perfect. They’re just expecting me to be me—even if “me” sometimes involves cancelling plans at the last minute (because panic attacks don’t give you a warning).

So, to anyone who’s out there feeling like a serial flake because of panic attacks or social anxiety: You’re not alone. It’s okay to cancel plans. It’s okay to take care of yourself. And most importantly, it’s okay to try again next time.

Because, in the end, it’s not about being perfect. It’s about being real—and that’s something worth showing up for.

I really appreciate you taking the time to read my story.

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Until next time!